Nightmares
by sydiy5bea
Summary: Sleep can't seem to keep a hold on Sully and Nate.
1. Sully's Dream

"Nate, hit the deck!" I shove him to the ground and crouch above him as bullets fly over our head.

Nate pushes me away and scoots against the crate. "Sully, I had that!" he shouts over the prattle of gunfire.

"No, you would have had a hole in your head." Nate opens his mouth to argue, but I cut him off. "Don't argue with me! Stay here. I'm moving up."

"I can help if you let me go with you."

"No, you'll be safer here."

"We'll both be safer if we have each other's backs."

"Kid, shut up and stay here. If you're so adamant about having my back, lay down some cover fire. Do whatever the hell you want as long as you stay behind this crate."

I wait for a break in the fighting, then I run to the concrete pillar to my right. Bullets chip away at the pillar a little too close for comfort, so I move forward again. I whip my pistol over the top of the crate and shoot a guard twice in the chest. His buddy swings his AK in my direction and open fires a second after I reenter cover. Nate lets off a few rounds to draw the guard's attention, then I bring my arm up and catch him in the shoulder, throwing off his aim. Nate grunts as the bullets get close to his head. I take the time to line up my next shot. I duck down as the bullet punctures his skull. I don't like to watch that part.

There's one guard left. I look back to check on Nate, but he's crouched behind cover. I turn my concentration to the far wall. He pokes his head around the corner, revealing his position. I keep low as I move up. I glance over at Nate again, but he still hasn't popped his head over the crate. Gunfire fills the air from the guard's direction. He has no idea where I am and nerves must be kicking in. Two against one are not good odds. I hear the sounds of a clip scraping against metal and take the opportunity to aim at the guard's cover. My bullet hits him in the neck when he pops his head up. He had no idea what hit him. I hear gasping and coughing, assuming it to be the guard, but I soon realize it's coming from behind me.

Nate.

I run over to his crate to find him lying in a pool of blood. His own blood. I crouch next to him moving his hands from his neck. A bullet must have grazed him, ripping open major artery. I look down at him, heart breaking. He won't survive this. He's lost too much blood.

Nate grabs my arm with a death grip. He gasps for air, begging for help using his eyes. I put my hands over the bullet wound. It won't really help, but I do it to comfort him. Nate whimpers when I shift my fingers. "I know, buddy, I know it hurts. Just hang in there, okay? You're gonna be fine." His movements start to slow as blood continues to flows through my fingers, including the rise and fall of his chest, but his grip on my arm doesn't falter.

They taught us in Naval basic training to never let a dying person grab hold of you. There's a reason they call it a death grip. To them, you represent life, the thing quickly slipping through their grasp. Nate's grasp. And I don't have the heart to pry his fingers off.

"Su… Su…" Nate tries to get my attention, but he can't get the words out.

"What is it, kid?"

"I…" His heart rate cuts in half, barely fluttering. "I… Su… lly…" Nate gives one more shudder, then his body goes limp. The blood flow slows to a standstill.

I slowly take my hands away and run them through my hair. The kid lays with his eyes open, mouth ajar, last words lost to the world. I slide my arms under his torso and cradle him close. "My boy…" I whisper, stroking his hair and blinking back tears. "Oh no, god, no. Please… Nate…"

* * *

I wake with a start, gripping the pillow. I wipe the sweat off my face. It was starting to collect in my moustache. The feeling of holding dead Nate was too real. To shake it off, I get up to get a drink. I root around the fridge for a bottle of water and chug it.

On my way back to my room, I take a peek into Nate's room. He's lying on his stomach, arms randomly splayed over the mattress, mouth agape, drooling slightly. He's usually a light sleeper, plagued by nightmares, so hearing him snore is a good thing. I smile when I notice his blanket on the ground. He must have been dreaming and kicked it off. I quietly push his door open, gather his sheets, and recover him. He stirs, so I stroke his back soothingly until his breath settles back into a rhythm. I watch over him for a few more minutes. My face reflects the content look on Nate's slack face. "Goodnight, kid."


	2. Nate's Dream

I sit in the kitchen and stare at the clock. It's really loud. It bothers me that it never goes anywhere. It perpetually goes around in circles. _It would be so boring to be a clock_ , I think to myself.

"Nathan!" Dad yells from the living room and I flinch. "Get in here! And bring me a beer while you're at it."

I slide off the stool and open the fridge. The can is so cold, I almost drop it. I don't though because Dad wouldn't like that. "Here," I say, lifting the beer up.

Dad's watching TV, but looks down at me when I speak. "Could you be any slower?" He swipes the can from my hand.

I scratch the back of my head and shift my feet. "Uh, Dad?"

"What?"

"I'm hungry."

"You're hungry? Go buy some food. What do you want from me?"

"Uh, I don't have any money.

"I know."

"If I could have some, I could buy some food."

"You would like that, wouldn't you? Little shit… You and your brother both. I should have just thrown you out ages ago." I step back. He's scary when he gets like this. "The only reason I kept you was your mother wouldn't let me get rid of you. Now the state wants to come take you away. I'm so done with you! Come here!"

I back up out of the reach of his arms. "Dad, please," I whimper.

"I said, come here!"

I try to make a run for it, but he snags my shirt collar and drags me closer. "Let me go!"

"Hey!" He forces me to look at him. "I'm your father. You do what I say."

Something in me snaps when I hear the anger in his voice and smell the alcohol on his breath. "I'll do what I want, when I want."

Dad's countenance becomes even more enraged. He raises his hand and strikes me across the face. "Don't you backtalk me, son."

My stinging face somehow makes me even braver. "You're not the boss of me. We make our own destinies."

"Oh, yeah? And where'd you hear that?"

"I read it in a book."

"Where'd you learn to read? You're dumber than dumb."

"I taught myself. Sam helped a little."

"You lyin' to me, son?"

"No."

"Yes you are. Tell me the truth."

"That is the truth."

"Fine. Maybe I can beat it out of you."

"I'm telling you the truth."

"Like hell you are." He grabs me by the hair and throws me to the ground. "My own son lying to me…" He pulls back his foot and kicks me in the ribs.

I gasp for a breath and yell, "I'm not lying!" Dad pulls his foot back again, but I catch his leg and pull him off his balance.

He growls as he hops around to keep from falling over, then unbuckles his belt and pulls it out of the loops. "I'll show you. Won't lie to me ever again, you little shit."

I flinch as he raises his hand, but Sam intervenes before Dad can hit me. He must have just come home from school. "Dad, don't! He doesn't mean it! Please, just leave him alone."

Dad slowly lowers his arm. He glares at me, but I glare back with just as much venom. "Just get him out of my sight before I change my mind," Dad mumbles.

"Of course, Dad. Of course." Sam grabs me under the arm and pulls me to my feet. He takes my hand and practically drags me into our room. I sit on the bed and Sam slams the door behind us. "Do you have a death wish or something? What were you thinking?"

I shrug. "Well, I told him that he doesn't own me. Then I told him I learned to read and he said I was lying, so we started yelling and then he… he…" My voice trails off.

"Did he say anything about giving us away?" Sam asks hopefully.

"Yeah, actually. How'd you know?"

"The state's been sending letters about us. They want to take us away."

"You sound excited."

"Of course I'm excited. Dad won't be able to hurt us anymore. We'll be free."

I nod, but something just doesn't seem right. "Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"Doesn't it bother you that Dad's okay with giving us away? I mean, he's all the family we've got."

"No, he's not. We've got each other." Sam puts his hands on my shoulders. "Brothers stick together no matter what." I smile and nod. "Oh, I almost forgot. I got more books from the school library."

"Awesome." I pull one out of his bag. The cover has a lot of big words on it. "What's this one about?"

"Pirate treasure," he says.

I open it and, to my delight, it has lots of pictures. I look over at the book Sam's holding. "What's that one about?"

"Cities of the world." He opens it to a random page. "New York," he reads. "The city that never sleeps." There are many really tall buildings on the page. There's even a big, green lady with golden torch.

"I wanna go there," I say.

"You wanna go everywhere." He rolls his eyes and turns the page. This page has many paintings, an arch, and a huge metal tower.

"Pa-ris," I read slowly, sounding out the words. "The city of l…"

"Love," Sam finishes.

I punch him in the arm. "I was gonna say that."

"Well, you're slow." He punches me back.

"Not my fault I'm still learning, jerk face." I jump onto his back and drag him down.

Sam's older, therefore he's bigger than me. He climbs on top of me and pins my appendages. "Take it back."

"Never!" I groan.

"Take it back, dumb ass!"

"Don't call me dumb ass, dumb ass!"

"Make me." He dangles a loogie above my face.

"Sam, quit it!" He shakes his head no. "Okay, fine, I take it back! I take it back!"

He lets the loogie fall on my face, then laughs when I try to wipe it off. "There, now we're even." Sam jumps off me.

"I took it back. Why'd you do that?"

"Because I can, dimwit." I raise my fist threateningly. "Oh, try it. See what it gets you," he challenges.

"I'm not a dimwit," I mutter to myself.

"Yeah, whatever Nate." He glances over at me. "I'm just joking, you know."

I shake my head no. "Dad says that I'm-"

"Stop," Sam says quickly. "Don't ever start a sentence like that ever again. Dad doesn't know shit. You're probably smarter than all the bozos in my class combined and you're younger than us. Don't let anyone tell you that you can't do something because you're dumb."

"We make our own destinies," I whisper.

He smiles and puts an arm around me. "Exactly."

There is a comfortable pause in the conversation and then I ask, "Did you mean what you said earlier about sticking together?"

"Yeah, of course."

"Forever?"

"Yes, Nate."

"Promise?"

"Oh my God, you're so annoying," Sam groans, but then he sighs. "But you're _my_ annoying little brother. You're stuck with me."

"I wouldn't want it any other way."

"Okay, that sounded a little weird."

"You're weird."

"Don't make me wrestle you again."

"I can take you."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Okay then, let's go." He tackles me again.

"Ow!" I scream when I hit the floor.

"Take the pain, loser!" Sam shouts.

We struggle for a while and just when Sam starts getting the advantage, the door flies open. "Will you two shut it?" Dad yells. He yanks Sam off me. "Stand up." Eyes cast downward, we comply. "Sam, go make yourself useful and clean the kitchen. I need to deal with your brother."

"Yes, Dad," he mumbles. Sam shoots me sad look and quickly makes his way out of our room.

I shift my gaze from Sam's receding figure to Dad's shoes. "I can't believe I got _you_ as my son. Stupid little shit..." he growls. Dad pinches my ear and yanks up on it, forcing me to meet his bloodshot eyes. "You look at me when I'm talking to you!"

"O-Okay, Dad. Ah!" I scream when he pulls up even harder and twists.

"And you never talk back to me! What happened in the living room will _never_ happen again. Understand?"

"Yes, Dad." He lets go of my ear and grabs me by the neck, effectively stopping my airflow.

"What do you say when you do something wrong?"

I loosen his fingers with my fingers just enough to choke out, "I'm sorry, Dad."

"Good." He drops me. "No dinner for you tonight. You'll stay in your room and out of my sight."

"Yes, Dad."

I lay curled in the fetal position long after Dad slams and locks the door, leaving me alone with my tears and bruises.

* * *

I wake with a start. I shiver in the cold air. The apartment has heat, but sometimes the thermostat has trouble keeping up. I contemplate diving under the covers again, but I know I won't be able to go back to sleep. I swing my feet over the side of the bed and walk down the hallway. Normally, I would slide the entire length of the hardwood floor in my socks, but I'm not in the mood.

I push open Sully's bedroom door and tiptoe inside. I reach the side of the bed and whisper, "Sully." He doesn't move. "Sully," I try again. He shifts slightly. I tap him on the shoulder. "Sully," I say a little louder.

He finally opens his eyes halfway, then closes them again when he sees it's me. "Yes?"

"Um, this is gonna sound weird... Well, not mushroom-zombies-are-taking-over-the-world weird, but weird like—"

"Spit it out, Nate," he grunts.

"Can I sleep in your room tonight?"

His eyebrows twitch. I guess he wasn't expecting that. "What? Why?" he asks, finally opening his eyes.

"I, uh, had a bad dream." I cast my eyes downwards.

Sully searches my face, then sighs. "It's okay, kid. I get them, too."

I nod, still looking at my feet. "I just… don't want to be alone."

He looks like he's weighing his options, then scoots over a bit and pats the bed. "Come on, hop up." I smile and climb the side of the bed. "Atta boy," he says, rustling my hair.

"Thanks, Sully," I say quietly.

"You're welcome, kid." I settle under the blanket. "Hey, Nate?"

I look at Sully. "Yeah?"

"You ever need anything, just ask. I don't know what happened to you in the past, but I'm not like them. I'm not gonna yell at you or beat you or anything. I might call you crazy…" I laugh. "But I will never turn you away. We're a team now. We stick together."

Not too long afterwards, I fall asleep. It's been years since I've slept this well. What's usually riddled with nightmares and bad memories is a smooth ride.

* * *

A/N: Nate sleeping next to Sully voluntarily is out of character, but I couldn't hold back the cuteness.


End file.
